


Climbing

by lornrocks



Series: Wall Conjecture [1]
Category: Fandom: Heroes
Genre: M/M, Premonitions, Romance, Sexytimes, Slash, conjecture, hotelsex, season4, sexin, thewall, written before the wall aired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:57:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lornrocks/pseuds/lornrocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically I've been inspired by pictures and summaries from the upcoming episode "The Wall". I've been toying with some of this for a while, so here goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Climbing

Groggily, Sylar could just barely make out the sound of a radio being tuned through some static, before finally settling on some oldies station. He tried opening his eyes but the sharp pain that greeted his brain made him squeeze them shut again.

"Where am I?" he managed to croak, despite the aching migraine threatening to rip his head open.

A familiar voice answered, "In a car on the way to a hotel in California."

Realization dawned as Sylar became aware of his situation. He was folded up in the backseat of some rental car (he could tell by the smell of the air freshener) driving on a freeway, judging by the speed. The light outside was soft, meaning it was probably around six-ish, dusk.

Driving the vehicle was someone he never thought he'd see again, at least not in such hospitable circumstances. He very carefully shifted so he was sitting up, using the back of the driver's seat as support.

"Peter?"

The driver looked back at Sylar through the rearview mirror.

"How do you feel?" Peter asked, a slight clinical tone in his voice.

Sylar blinked once.

Hold up, freeze. _What?_

"What the hell happened?" To say Sylar was sounding a little demanding was an understatement.

Peter shrugged. "As far as I can tell, you threatened Matt asking him to take your powers, and he ended up putting you into some sort of coma."

Well that explained the migraine.

Sylar shifted a little, cringing inwardly as feeling started to return to his legs.

"And you got involved how exactly?"

Peter drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, looked up at the rearview mirror, and then back to the road.

"I have my mom's ability right now. I saw what happened and flew to California."

"You flew all the way to California to save me from Matt Parkman."

"Yes."

Sylar leaned back and stared out the window for a minute.

"Why?" he asks, finally. "Last time we met, you nailed me to the floor. Doesn't seem like you were too eager to let me live."

Peter doesn't say anything in response, instead focusing intently on the road in front of him. The radio hums softly in the background.

Very softly, Peter whispers, "I just had to."

Some more miles fly by as they sit in the tensioned silence, until Sylar leans forward again.

"Can you pull over so I can sit up front? There is just not enough room back here."

A small smile quirks on Peter's lips from the quip and he obliges. They spend the rest of the trip in silence until a pop song from the late nineties comes on the radio. Sylar moves his hand to change it and Peter pushes it away.

"You're not serious. This song is horrible," Sylar groans, and Peter makes a face at him.

"Hey, this is a good song. They played it at my senior prom."

"Of course they did. Let me guess, nice tux, orchid corsage, ridiculous spiked hair. Right?"

Peter laughs a little under his breath. "Something like that."

He waits a beat before asking, "Did you go to your senior prom?"

Sylar's eyes flicker down to the ground and he shakes his head.

"It wasn't really something I wanted to do."

Peter nods and turns his gaze away. They're driving for another minute before he sees their destination and pulls into the parking lot.

"What are we doing?" the older man asks, unbuckling his seat belt and turning to look at Peter.

"Look, I need your help with something, can I tell you inside?"

Sylar's eyes narrow for a moment before he shrugs and opens the door. They head inside, where Peter's about to request a room with two beds when Sylar interrupts.

"We'd like a two bedroom suite, please," he smiles, and the woman at the front desk nods.

"Of course sir. Will you be paying with a credit card this evening?"

"No, cash," and he's pulling out a wallet and handing her a handful of hundred dollar bills. She does the obligatory check to make sure it's real before smiling and handing them their room keys. As the two head towards the elevators, Peter can't help but ask, "What was that for?"

Sylar hits the button for their floor.

"If you're going to be staying in a hotel, you may as well get the best."

"Yeah, but where did you get the money? Please tell me you didn't rob someone."

This earns Peter a scoff.

"Did you forget I can turn things into gold? I just pawned some stuff."

Peter hadn't even thought of that.

They get to their room and it's amazing. It has two bedrooms on opposite sides of a main living area, with a kitchen area and two bathrooms. Peter's checking out the view when Sylar flops down on to the sofa.

"So what's this all about, Peter?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.

The paramedic seems a little unsure. He sits down on the arm chair across from Sylar and tries to gather his words.

"I had a dream that my friend Emma is going to kill a lot of people because Samuel told her to. And you were there. I figured that the only way to stop this is to stop Samuel."

"And that's why we're now somewhere in California?" Peter nods, and Sylar continues. "So why did you bring me here?"

Peter leans forward and looks up at Sylar with impossibly large brown eyes.

"I need your help stopping him. I can't do it alone, not when my ability is broken."

Peter's barely finished the sentence before the tell-tale vibration in Sylar's head lets him know Peter's lying.

"Why did you really bring me here, Peter?" He mimics Peter's pose and leans forward.

Suddenly Peter sits back, like he just got shocked.

"I don't know why."

He stands up and starts walking towards one of the bedrooms. A hand grabs Peter's shoulder and whirls him around until he's backed against the hallway wall.

"Peter." Sylar demands, hand still firmly on Peter's shoulder.

"I had another dream," Peter swallows, looking at the other man carefully. Before Sylar can reply, Peter's leaning forward, on slight tiptoe, and kissing him sweetly.

Lydia's power kicks into overdrive as Peter's feelings rush into Sylar through their touching skin, and before he knows it, Sylar is kissing Peter back with equal intensity. The reciprocation seems to encourage Peter, who tangles his fingers in Sylar's hair and pulls him forward. He can feel himself start to be lifted up slightly against the wall (probably by telekinesis) and takes the opportunity to wrap his legs around the other man's waist.

Sylar's pretty content to keep tasting Peter on his tongue when Peter pulls back a little.

"How long have you had the ability to go into other people's dreams?" he asks, breathless, and Sylar digs his fingers harder into the hips underneath his hands.

"I'm not sure," he replies, before pressing his mouth to Peter's again.

He figured eventually Peter would realize that all those dreams he was having about Sylar were a little too real, too frequent and completely too sexual. It's not like he could help it, though, because when he was asleep he always, always found his way to the youngest Petrelli. When his burgeoning attraction became flat out infatuation, he knew he was in trouble. Who could have guessed Peter would catch on and reciprocate so...completely?

As Sylar thinks, he works on pulling Peter's long sleeved black shirt off and undoing the front of his pants. Peter has kicked off his shoes and was trying to unbutton the millions of buttons on Sylar's coat, and after that was out of the way, his shirt as well. Just as they were getting to the good part, Peter pulled his head back again.

"If we're going to do this, we should probably relocate somewhere-" he bites back a moan as Sylar leaned his head down and started sucking on his neck. "-Somewhere more comfortable."

There was a slight groan of protest as Sylar let the hold on Peter go and Peter slid carefully to the floor. He shimmied his pants down, stepped out of them, then grabbed Sylar's hand and tugged him in the direction of one of the bedrooms. As soon as they get inside, Peter's pushed on to the bed with little fanfare.

"Better?" Sylar asks, looking down at Peter and smirking.

"Much," Peter agrees, and tugs Sylar down on top of him. It takes some effort but then they're both completely undressed and Peter's trying to push Sylar down so he can get on top of him, but Sylar really just wants to be on top. Finally, Peter wins and straddles the other man triumphantly.

He's about to say something when Sylar wraps his hand around Peter's cock and gives a slight tug. Something along the lines of "fuck" is dragged from Peter's mouth as he hangs his head and digs his nails into the other man's shoulders.

Sylar gives some leisurely strokes before craning his neck up and whispering into Peter's ear.

"How are we going to do this, Peter?"

One of Peter's hands flies up to grab a hold of the back of Sylar's head to keep him there.

"I didn't exactly plan for something like this," he breathes back, before swallowing and opening his eyes.

Sylar stares in wonder at the absolute lost look Peter has in his eyes.

"I have an idea," Peter whispers, and shifts down Sylar's body so their hips are aligned. He leans forward until their chests are pressed together, and they both can't help breathing in a sharp intake of breathe as their cocks rub together.

"I like this idea," Sylar groans, hands moving under Peter's ass so he can push him forward again.

Peter rocks forward as Sylar pushes his hips up; meanwhile, his mouth is preoccupied in marking every inch of the long, bared throat above him. He nips and sucks and the whole time, Peter is letting breathy moans escape from between those slightly crooked lips of his. Sylar had no idea that the other man could be so vocal.

As if proving his point, Peter's breath hitches and an " _Oh fuck_ ," is drawn out slowly and urgently.

Peter sits back and leans against the other man's bent knees as he continues rocking his hips.

"I don't- I-" Peter's eyes close again. "I don't know if I-"

Sylar slides his hands up Peter's thighs and on to his hips.

"Me neither," he breathes back, and suddenly, Peter has never looked more beautiful. Maybe it was just the hormones talking, but Sylar couldn't help himself.

"You're gorgeous," he groans, and Peter's eyes slowly open as he looks down at the man below him. His hair is sticking to his forehead, his chest is flushed, and he looks so blissed out Sylar can barely stand it.

Peter holds out his hands and it takes a moment for Sylar's oversexed brain to realize what he means. He reaches his own hands up and intertwines them so Peter can use it as leverage.

Peter's rocking gets more urgent and Sylar can feel his own body start to tense up. He's babbling whatever comes to mind out loud and lifting his hips to press against Peter's.

When Peter throws his head back, the look of complete ecstasy on his face is all it takes to push Sylar over the edge. They rest for a moment, breath coming out in harsh gasps.

"Peter," Sylar whispers, and it's pretty safe to say his brain hasn't really started working yet.

" _I think I love you._ "

He doesn't even realize what he's said but suddenly Peter has shifted a little.

"I'm going to get a towel," he says, and unceremoniously rolls off the man below him. He reappears seconds later with a slightly damp towel, which he rubs gently across Sylar's stomach before tossing it on to the floor and crawling back on the bed.

Sylar's sprawled out on his back, eyes closed, and he thinks Peter is just going to lay down when he feels him laying his head on Sylar's stomach. Arms are gently draped across his middle as Peter holds the other man like a pillow, laying on his own stomach.

"Do you cuddle everyone like this?" Sylar asks, and despite his tone, he slides one hand down to rest on the back of the other man's neck, just below his hair line.

"No, just you," Peter mumbles into the skin beneath him.

"We're kind of fucked up," Sylar mumbles, and receives a "Yeah, I know," back.

He wants to ask Peter how long he's known, and what exactly happened in that premonition he had, but he figures it can wait.

Peter's almost asleep when he hears his cell ringing from where they left it in the other room. He's about to get up and get it when Sylar pushes him back down.

"Leave it, it's your mom."

"What?"

"She just a very, very bad dream, Peter. Think about it."

The grogginess is gone as Peter groans.

"Fuck. She's going to kill me," he laments, and Sylar rubs the back of his neck.

"I think she'll forgive you. After all, you're all she has left."

Peter nods and buries his face back into Sylar's stomach. Somehow, the light gets turned off and they end up falling asleep.

The next morning, Peter wakes with a start. Sylar, who looks like he's been awake for a while, eyes him carefully.

"What did you see?" he asks.

Peter sits up and tries to breathe again.

"We need to find some more help."

**Author's Note:**

> Written forever ago for LJ.


End file.
